


Talking in Bed

by zuzuzukas_dream



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, M/M, but not actually dr3's hajime cuz its not my thing at all, fluff as well, i wanted to talk about izuru, post-dr3, starts cute then gets serious, you can interpret this to be DID hajime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-21
Packaged: 2018-10-22 00:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10686018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zuzuzukas_dream/pseuds/zuzuzukas_dream
Summary: It's been a long road. Makoto and Hajime are exhausted - in love, yes, but exhausted. They find themselves in pleasant conversation, and then Makoto allows his mind to explore other things. Post-DR3, the Remnants are now hidden from the world, playing devil's advocate.





	Talking in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> this is named after a poem by philip larkin that suggests true honesty can be incredibly difficult, and this is done in an ironic manner to highlight the intimacy makoto and hajime share.
> 
> dr3's hajime rep kinda irks me, so sorry to anybody who was expecting that. in this, you can interpret izurus personality to exist beside hajimes (DID) but thats up to you. hajime is talentless here, and you can expect this of any other post-sdr2 fics i write.  
> this was written between 12pm-2am, and im too tired to proofread, so sorry if parts dont make sense. yet another thought-based fic from me. i have a lot of feelings about danganronpa

"You're cute," says Makoto. He boops Hajime's nose with the tip of his finger, and a giddy smile fills his lips as he watches the boy's face scrunch up. "See."

Hajime, stubborn, swats his hand away from where he lays. "Nope. You just think that 'cause it's late and you get all...? I dunno." It takes a moment for him to find a word. "Weird."

"Weird?" Mock offence has Makoto propping his head up on his palm. "Wow! I wanna give you attention and it's weird. Okay."

With the light from the moon and the streets beneath just lightly tinting their room, Hajime's cheeks are revealed to be lightly brushed with pink. His lips stretch to the side in a thin line, and his eyes avert. It's adorable when he's so shy.

"You wanna flatter me," he deduces, "which is actually off-limits and against the law, because you have no proof."

Makoto thinks, the smarts in him wanting to surface for a few moments of assery, and he reaches for the bed lamp. His boyfriend squeals in response, and then yelps at the sudden light that crashes into his vision. Stealing the duvet from Makoto, he hides beneath it.

"You're perverting the course of justice by not letting me gather proof," argues Makoto. He curls back into laying down beside Hajime, rather bare in simply his boxers. "See you in court."

A soft "noooo" comes from Bed Sheet Hill, and some of the fabric is tugged further in around Hajime's face. Rich brown hair sticks out from the top, though, which Makoto does eye mischievously for a few moments - before focusing on something else entirely.

The light is turned back off and, with goose bumps beginning to take shape along his arms and back, he sinks into this blob that was once his boyfriend. He is quick to submit to the cold. "Can I have my sheets back if I let you win?" he asks, relatively gently. The blob moves a little beneath him. "I just realised I'm too frozen to argue when you decide to, uh, steal all the sheets."

"Too late. You exposed your weakness," Hajime jokes, and is a little breathy from the heat when he then rears his head. "They're mine now. Unless you promise to never be so gay again."

"What?! Unfair. I can't just do that. That's homophobic."

His boyfriend turns to face him, playfulness raising his brows. "You're bisexual, actually."

"Biphobic, then," says Makoto, his own brows burrowing toward his nose in childish frustration. "I have to compliment you, or then you don't know how good you are. And that would make me sad."

Hajime makes a strangled noise of embarrassment and tugs at the sheets, before stuffing that green-eyed tyrant of his heart beneath them. Said tyrant giggles, clearly not defeated, and actually makes sure that they both are absolutely submerged.

It's somewhat hard to breathe in the heat there, but there is a kinder warmth, too, brought by their intimacy, that makes it worth the while. It drums his heartbeat into a more prominent rhythm.

"What am I gonna do with you," Hajime mumbles. It's less of a question and more of an exasperated sigh. In the dark, his expression is unidentifiable, but Makoto's mind traces the probable bashful smirk.

"Kiss me, maybe." The reply is still bubbly, but more genuine. "Hold me. Kiss me some more. Let me touch your butt."

Hajime had shifted, but now stops. "Oh. Whoa. And to think I was actually just about to kiss you."

Bursting into more giggles, Makoto pleads, "No, no, please - kiss me, I'm worth it, please," as he crawls forward. Snuffles of laughter sound in reply. "And, hey, isn't that just a compliment to your butt?"

"No! That's not a compliment," Hajime replies. He even sounds a little baffled. "A compliment toward somebody's butt is, 'Your butt looks great in those jeans' - not 'I demand you let me kiss your butt right this second'?"

Now, it's Makoto's turn to be baffled. "What?" The tone of his voice reaches incredible heights. "Who said kiss? I didn't say kiss. I said touch-"

"Oh, my God," whines the boy before him. Here, the embarrassment weighs upon him tenfold. "I'm tired. Leave me alone. Please."

"If you want me to kiss your butt, just ask-"

"This is why dying is an option for me," comes the next melodramatic remark. "This is why I will die, Makoto. You will kill me."

Does he feel bad for torturing his boyfriend? Well. That's definitely a question.

A sigh escapes him, face truly beginning to hurt from the length his seemingly eternal smile stretches to. "Fine, fine. We can ignore your subconscious need for me to kiss your butt for now."

"I'm going to die," Hajime continues.

Makoto tries another approach, instead. He finds something that isn't quite Hajime's face when he tries to smooch the dark - fabric, but at least it isn't the bed sheets. Only a half-miss.

The shirt he kisses is so warm. Hajime is so warm.

"Pfft."

Makoto frowns. "Shut up. Let me find you," he says, already en route to where he supposes Hajime's lips are. A destination which, as it turns out, is just the boy's jaw, even though he somewhat felt his way there. He says again, "Shut up," before his boyfriend has any chance to laugh at him again. Which he does.

A hand cups over Makoto's mouth, denying him a third try. "Look," Hajime's hushed tones tell him, a hint of timidness in them, as though they share a great secret, "let me do it."

But, there is no secret. Not in the love his hands communicate; not in the tender stroke of his thumbs against Makoto's cheeks. There is no hesitance when he leans in, guiding with his nose, breath hot and ghosting along Makoto's skin, to connect them in a deep kiss. And, in the place of secrecy and hesitance is a true desire to be close - to touch, and to be safe.

Makoto reciprocates, heartbeat truly thundering. This sense of awe does not let up, no matter how many kisses he's given. That much, he has grown to understand. In moments like this, however, he finds himself surprised - truly overwhelmed by the power that such simple movements can hold.

Eager, as Hajime pulls back, he follows him to steal another peck. And then another. The air between them stirs with little laughs, and Hajime's callous palms have found their way to the back of Makoto's head. Cradling him.

"Okay," the shape before him whispers. "Have you found me now?"

"Mhm," Makoto replies. "You're right - here." He takes yet another kiss to prove it.

"You're such a big baby."

"And you're not?"

Lazily, the pair of them continue to kiss and to touch like this - and to overheat beneath the sheets. It is not quite as romantic as it may sound, due to the pair of them having to re-emerge from that very soon (because sloppy, breathy kissing is not always as appealing as it sounds). Energy absorbing into the heat of their joined hands, Makoto at last finds himself exhausted, and satisfied, and smiling.

A silence does settle over them. It sits as comfortable layer of security atop them both, even when they take to look at one another. None of them truly need to speak - it is that which is sweet about it; they are content with the simplicity of company. The calm it provides.

Makoto's thoughts, allowed to wander in this honest tranquility, find themselves facing another kind of Hajime. He traces the expression of a photograph, and then finds similar lines in somebody who existed in his place. Beneath the tangled strands of hair, like the running of water upon his countenance, he sees Kamukura. A shadow against the sunset - a banshee upon the grounds of Hope's Peak's tragic remains that breathed a curse.

The entity that existed then was only a shell of what once was. That boy, simply a boy, who wanted to live in his own right, but could not love, nor be satisfied with, himself. The monster that Hope's Peak had created - or, rather, one victim of its monstrous mindset - had the power of knowledge beyond anyone else's comprhension. As a being who wandered, unable to find even a shred of purpose, and whom knew that there existed none for them - they remained alive.

Did anybody even begin to question that before Hajime returned?

Makoto's mind has taken to trying to understand Kamukura for some time now. Countless times, it has arrived at a dead end in its attempt to find a reason for them continuing to live. He has buried himself in Yasuke Matsuda's research; enlisted the help of Kyouko to retrieve the documents for Hajime's treatment; spent countless nights swerving between possible conclusions.

He has tried to understand, because it is important to him to know.

But, he never has.

They barely spoke to him, if not to tell him of the world he did not know. Kamukura's words were the knowledge of the world's own God; with Enoshima's powers drawing them close, they had created the devastation that was the New World. And yet, they were so hollow. The emotion that Hajime feels, perhaps even now, with eyes closed and breathing slowed, was absent from them.

Furthermore, Hajime has not yet been able to communicate the words spoken to him by Kamukura in the gap between simulation and reality - the only words that could hold some answers to their questions.

All of this considered, however - why does he stay in these dark alleys of thought, refraining from stepping into the light? Another question without a true answer. He has told himself, "Because I want to know why they chose the simulation to be what ended their life," and "Because I want to know if they really planned to die there", and "If there's a chance that we may still meet, I should want to know who I'm facing". But, perhaps, it is something closer to this:

"Because I owe them my thanks, in a certain way."

Horror is not something that should be used to build character. No. But, in plunging Hajime into such deep despair, and in providing him an escape from its total destruction, they created the strongest version of Hinata Hajime that there could have existed. And now, his lips inaudibly mouthing over this sequence of events, Makoto wonders if that may have been their reasoning all along.

To create a person who was able to take control, and erase their responsibilities over the Earth. An Adam to Kamukura's God.

Though, here, Makoto's musings drop. He loses the sound of gentle breathing for now, and slips into sleep. There is no exhilaration in exploring the will of Kamukura. Submitting to his exhaustion, he leaves this train of thought to trail off into the fogs of a dream, fingers loosening over those of his lover.

He will always be grateful that he has been given a chance to lay along side him in this way.

That, in any case, is of the most spectacular importance.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if this is bad its legit just me thinking a lot and trying to explore like 3 characters' personalities at once. i want 2 be a writer so i may as well get some practice


End file.
